


The Past Has A Hold On Me

by MidnightCity



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Post-Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7012750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightCity/pseuds/MidnightCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford didn’t like to watch, he wished that he would have never seen his brother like this. But he knew that he couldn’t abandon Stanley. Sometimes the episode would get so bad that Stanley would forget where he was at the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Past Has A Hold On Me

The most recent memories returned the quickest. It had taken a nudge. And after the first shock that Stanley remembered his family, they had shown him more of Mabel’s scrapbook while telling him stories.

Some memories seemed to fall back into place like water drops; others hit like waves. Stanley remembered Ford this way, their shared past crashing in all at once: How they had shared a room as children. The discovery of the _Stan o’ War_ but, sadly, also how they had split. Along with the anger Stanley had felt when after more than ten horrible years, the only thing his brother had wanted from him was to fuck off and as far away as possible. This was followed by a painful wave of deep sadness and regret when he remembered thinking that he had lost his brother once again, and maybe this time for good.

Often such an event left Stanley exhausted, or in the mist of an “episode.” Every emotion that he had felt during a stretch of time appeared at once. Ford didn’t like to watch, he wished that he would have never seen his brother like this. But he knew that he couldn’t abandon Stanley. Sometimes the episode would get so bad that Stanley would even forget where he was at the moment. But that was rare, and short. He came back quickly …

Other memories might never return, Ford had explained. If he was honest, he had been surprised (pleasantly surprised) that any memories had returned. While he didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t known how or why, Ford had joked that this was due to Stanley’s endless stubbornness. It was fitting, after all this was a man who had not only refused to have his memory wiped but also the same man who had for decades never given up on his quest to bring back his twin brother.

Usually weeks or days were missing but they were not exactly needed. For example Stanley could remember travelling through London, but not how he had gotten there. Those gaps were bearable, after all common sense could fill in the missing information.

However, Stanley also lacked bigger chunks from the ten years he had spent alone. He knew that he had spent them with no real friends, out of contact with his family, and with hardly any money. Ford wondered if maybe it was for the better that Stanley wouldn’t remember …

 

* * *

 

On a sunny morning the whole crew was in the _Mystery Shack’s_ gift store, telling stories. To emphasise the point Soos began to imitate a Mexican speaking in broken English. Ford laughed along with the others. Then he turned to his brother seeing that his fists were clenched, and that he sat rigid.

“Stanley?” Ford asked calmly, not wanting to catch the attention of the kids. Whatever it was, Ford didn’t want them to become alert.

It didn’t seem to do any good. It looked like Stan wasn’t even aware that he was in the _Mystery Shack_ among friends and family. Instead Stan hit the table with his fist, and shook his head. Then he shouted at Soos in Spanish, _“¡No puedes perjucicar a mi otra vez, capullo!_ ”

Ford concluded quickly that Stanley had an episode and was re-living a past event. The memory was strong enough that he seemed to forget that it had been the past. However, those thoughts were quickly wiped away when Stanley let out a frustrated scream and jumped at Soos.

Soos backed away before Stan could reach him, and Ford tackled his brother. They crashed onto the floor, both struggling for the upper hand while Soos shunned the children out of the room.

Ford hated himself when he twisted his brother’s arm, causing him to yelp. “It’s okay,” he tried to reassure him.

A moment later he felt a fist connect with his chin. Ford struggled but managed to grab Stan's wrists. He held both of them above Stan’s head, not wanting him to injure anybody, or even worse himself.

“Stanley!” Ford shouted at him, trying bring him out of the episode. “It’s over!”

However, Stan kept struggling, wanting to get out of Ford's hold. The more he struggled, the more painful did the knot in Ford’s stomach become; the guilt he felt for not only having to hold his brother down, but also that he had to relive a painful event. Ford had to keep on hoping that the episode wouldn’t last long, and that he would return back to reality any moment.

Stan kicked Ford again, but this time Ford didn’t yield. He shook his head and bit his lip, he didn’t want to hurt Stanley more than he already had. “Stop this,” he begged of him, pressing his hands further into the wooden floor. Stan let out a painful yelp, and tried to wind out of his grip. _Of course, he was scared._

“Stanley, it’s me,” Ford tried to get through to him. “Stanford, your brother. I won’t hurt you.”

“Sure you won’t!” Stanley shouted back, and kicked him again. This time Ford wavered, and Stan used the moment of weakness. Before Ford even noticed what had happened, he helplessly staggered back. Stan shouted at him in Spanish, words Ford couldn’t make out through the white noise in his ears.

Ford blinked a few times, trying to bring his view back into focus. When he expected another punch, he heard a thud instead. Slowly, Ford opened his eyes, seeing his brother slumped on his knees. He was looking at his hands, and shaking his head.

“Stanley?” Ford asked quickly, got back on his feet and walked towards him.

When he was beside him, Ford carefully touched Stanley's shoulder to get his attention. He desperately tried to ignore the way that Stanley was rubbing his wrists.

Stanley shook his head, and then snorted. Ford frowned, wondering if he was still having an episode or if he had returned to reality. Then Stanley stood up and shrugged his shoulder, “well, that was one memory I could have lived without.”

Ford smiled weakly at him, and nodded. He was trying to sympathise but he worried. Ford had known that the ten years Stan had spent alone hadn’t been nice. In the past he had never thought much about his brother, but now seeing that he tried to play his recent episode off as a joke …

 

* * *

  


During the following nights Ford had trouble sleeping. His brain didn't want to shut up … He hated it! So Ford found himself wandering through the house in search of warm milk. As he returned he passed his brother's bedroom, and stopped in front of it. He could have sworn that he had just heard his Stanley's voice.

Just as he was about to shrug it off he heard him again. It was quiet, it was almost like Stanley was whimpering. Ford didn't want to see it … He didn't want to see his brother crying, and god knows what else he was remembering in his sleep.

Ford swallowed, and quietly pushed the door open. Maybe he would be wrong, and Stanley would sleep blissfully. Soon a sad smile formed on Ford's face as he saw that Stan was clutching the stuffed pet Mabel had made for him, seemingly the only source of comfort that he had. Stan was relentlessly thrashing around in his bed like he was flighting invisible demons.

Ford took a step inside his room, and let the door fall shut behind him. He should wake Stan up, save him from this horrible nightmare, but something stopped Ford.

He knew that Stan never talked about things he remembered from this particular decade. Stan had never talked to Ford about the episode he had had a few days ago, about what he had remembered then, or about what had happened in the past. This was Stan's own burden, and his own story, one he seemed to be unwilling to share with Ford.

What if Stan was dreaming about the past at the moment? What if waking him up would put Stan in an uncomfortable position where he would feel forced to talk about the dream? Stan wanted to ignore the bad memories. He didn't want to have a heart-to-heart with his brother about it. Ford didn't know exactly why, maybe because after a while Stan would realize that it had been the past, and it was useless to dwell on it. Ford refused to indulge in the idea that it was because Stan didn't want Ford to feel bad about these past events.

Still, at this very moment, Ford wished that he could change the past. It had been the first time in his life that he had wished for such. Ford knew that the past can't be changed. But was it so irrational to wish for the possibility at least once in his life?

Then Stan's form stilled again, but he was breathing jaggedly. Ford sat down on the floor next to him and whispered that it was just a dream and he wouldn't remember.

Satisfied he watched as Stanley's breathing slowed down to a steady rhythm. Ford let out a relieved breath and left the room again.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Ford kept an eye on Stanley. Maybe there would be a hint that he remembered that he had had a nightmare. But there was no such thing. As usual, he made pancakes for all of them, scratched his back, made a few jokes and then retired to the living room until the first patch of tourists arrived.

Ford didn't want to press Stanley for what he remembered and what he didn't recall. He didn't want to unnecessarily strain the newly formed bond between them. If Stanley wanted to talk he would. After all he knew that the could come to Ford. At least Ford hoped that he knew this.

Around midday, Ford even began to hope that the nightmare had been a one time event. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he was lying.

From then on Ford could always hear his brother's quiet muttering. Every night he heard him, he padded down the hall and sat down next to him on the floor. Ford always stayed until the nightmare was over. Then he would leave.

Later on, he discovered that he could touch Stan without waking him. So he gently ran his hand through the grey hair, while whispering, “it's okay Stanley, it's the past. It won't happen again.”

 

* * *

 

When Ford returned to the Shack with groceries he could hear shouting from the inside. He thought that Dipper and Mabel were having another of their rather loud and childish fights. Then Stan's voice cut through the mixture of voices. He was panicked, but speaking English. Ford dropped the paper bags and ran inside.

“Grunkle Stan wait!” Mabel shouted as Ford came into the room. He could hear footfalls moving away from them; Stan, and he was running upstairs.

“What happened?” Ford asked, seeing that Mabel was close to tears.

“I don't know,” she sniffed.

Ford shook his head, and feared that Stanley had another episode. But at least the children were unharmed. If one chose to ignore the fright they had caught.

“It's not your fault.” He pulled Mabel into a quick hug.

Afterwards he got up to find Stanley. He hadn't left the Shack, otherwise they would have seen him. Given the state that Stan might be in at the moment, this was a good thing. The Shack was a controlled environment; the woods that surrounded them weren't. Chances of Stan hurting himself in here were slim.

Ford followed the now gone footsteps upstairs. He stopped in the middle of the hall, trying to hear any sort of noise. But there was only silence. Not footsteps, no voices, not even the whimpering that Ford had heard too often.

Ford sighed, and walked from room to room, looking inside each and every one of them. Stan had to be somewhere. He couldn't just disappear. When he looked into the last room he saw that the window was wide open. It was wide enough that Stan would fit through.

 _It couldn't be? Could it?_ Ford considered for a moment as he walked closer. He looked outside and saw that the dirt on the roof was disturbed. Ford thought it through for a moment.

 _But Stanley was scared of heights?_ Ford wondered, and shook his head. Maybe that had changed over the years. Ford felt a small bang of guilt for not being sure. He should have gotten to know his brother better before all of this had happened. Ford sighed and listened for a while.

Suddenly the long silence was broken by a sob.

“Stanley,” Ford whispered, and crawled onto the roof as well. He followed the tracks in the dirt and the sounds. Ford reached the eaves of the Shack and saw Stanley sitting at the edge of it. Stanley's body was hunched forward, resting most of his weight on his knees, and letting his feet tangle over the edge.

Ford crawled up to him, and quietly called out his name. He didn't want to frighten him. He only wanted to announce his arrival.

As a response, Stanley shook his head and sniffed again. Ford managed to reach him, but didn't sit too close to him. He wasn't sure if Stanley would want any physical contact. Maybe Stanley didn't even want Ford to see him like this. Maybe he wanted to be alone after all this. Ford wouldn't blame him. But Stanley didn't sound any protests.

Furthermore, Ford refused to leave him alone. Stanley had to live through all of this by himself before, it wouldn't be fair if he should do so again.

They didn't talk for a long time. Stanley only watched his neatly folded hands, and took deep breaths, most likely in an effort to keep calm. Ford stayed with him, he was watching Stanley from the corner of his eyes, while the sun was slowly setting and turning the sky into a maze of yellow and purple.

Slowly Stanley shifted his weight, and shuffled closer towards Ford. Ford looked at him and smiled weakly. After a moment Stanley managed to return a weak smile, even though deep sadness hid in his eyes.

“Bad times,” Stanley offered weakly, and tried to laugh. Then he shook his head, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Ford nodded slowly as he took the words in. He tried to find any comforting words, but they all seemed wrong, and out of place. There were no right words. Ford took a deep breath and slung an arm around Stanley's shoulders. For a moment Stanley stiffened but relaxed quickly again.

In the past Stanley had always been the one that had kept the bullies away from Ford. This time Ford had to take this role. He wanted to protect Stanley from the past.

After a long silence, and watching the sunset together, Ford felt Stanley's head hit his shoulder. Ford stiffened for a moment, and looked down. But he relaxed again when he saw that Stanley had fallen asleep.  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I assumed that Stan would be fluent in Spanish since he spent some time in Columbia, but if it is utter rubbish in this fic that is due to the rubbish Spanish skill of your author ;)


End file.
